Graffiti
by Dakota-Jones
Summary: Chas Kramer is a juvenile delinquent who hasn't healed from tragedy. John Constantine is a man who's forgotten how to feel. Their lives are about to violently clash and it couldn't happen at a better time. COMPLETED!
1. Chapter 1

_Chas is struggling with inner issues that are causing his rebellious actions. Audrey, I would strongly recommend having a consultation with a counselor so you can work through these issues with your son before they begin effecting long term academic and social performance._

Chas crumpled the paper in his hand and threw it down into the nearest sewer as he walked. It was the last paragraph of a letter sent by his AP Chemistry teacher, Miss Keaton, whose hand he almost incinerated today in an unfortunate acid spill.

It wasn't like he _meant _to almost burn her hand off. He was just impatient with waiting on the teacher to instruct all the slow kids. The directions were right in front of him, he could read them clear as day, so why not continue?

Chas kicked another rock down the sidewalk, where it bounced and catapulted and hit a woman walking in front of him in the back of her leg. She looked over her shoulder and scowled, but Chas just flipped her the bird and continued walking.

"Didn't even wanna have that goody-two-shoes tattletale for a teacher," he muttered under his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets. He knew he'd have to go home eventually, face his mother's anger and disappointment once again, but if he waited until three in the morning to come home she'd be too tired to verbally rip out his jugular. Therefore, he could put the second phase of this whole deal off for another day.

He reached the bowling alley and spotted three of his friends standing outside, Brian, Tony, and D-man. Tony saw him and waved him over, and Chas joined them.

"Where you been, Kramer?" Brian asked, offering Chas a cigarette. Chas pulled out his lighter and lit it, taking a long drag and exhaling heavily before answering.

"Had to deal with my mom. She's on a damn roll today," he said, and D-man chuckled.

"We heard about Miss Keaton endin' up in the nurse's office. What'd you do, Kramer, kick her in the nuts?"

"Nah, just tried to burn her hand off."

"You serious?"

"Acid lab today. Fuckin' ace, dude."

That seemed to impress them all. They quieted down, though, when a man in a black suit and black trenchcoat stalked by. The man smelled foul and looked like he was coming back from a war, smoking furiously on a cigarette. The boys watched him pass, and then a few of them chuckled.

"He's fuckin' crazy, dude. I heard he's one of those wacko exorcists," Tony pointed out, exhaling smoke with his words. Chas took another drag off his cigarette, watching as the man turned to go up the stairs to his apartment.

"No, man," Brian was saying, "I heard he tries to summon demons and stuff."

"I heard he murdered some guys upstate. Chopped 'em up, ate their dicks and gave the rest to the sharks," D-man added even quieter, flicking ashes onto the ground.

"You guys are full of it," Chas said, lightly dragging the tip of his cigarette across his palm, letting the slight pain sink in. "He's just a guy who wants to scare people off lookin' all creepy."

"I'll bet he's a pedophile," Brian said, his eyes lighting up. "That's why he hides up there all the time, so he can jack off to kiddie porn."

"Don't project your bad habits on others," Chas said, shoving Brian with his elbow and gaining a laugh from the other guys.

"C'mon, Kramer, don't tell me you're not scared of that guy. He's fuckin' scary as hell," Tony said, looking up at the windows of the man's apartment.

"I'm not scared of some crazy hermit," Chas said, taking a drag off his cigarette.

D-man puffed up his chest proudly- obviously, the dusty, flickering light bulb went on inside his head for once. "Prove it."

"What?"

"You heard me, Chas. Get some spray paint, sneak in the guy's apartment, do some artwork on the walls and take a picture to prove you did it."

"You're crazy."

"What, you scared?"

Chas snorted, dropping his cigarette and stomping it out. "The only thing I'm scared of is the guy callin' the cops. I'm not real interested in staying the night in jail and explaining that to my mom too."

"Aw, Chassy's scared of his mom," D-man taunted, giving Chas a hard nudge.

"I am not, I just don-"

"If you're not scared then you'll do it. Come on, Kramer, it's not that hard," Brian said, and Chas looked between his three friends, and then crossed his arms.

"And what do I get if I do it?"

Tony shrugged. "Respect?"

"Not good enough."

"A box of cigarettes, on us," Brian said, and Chas shook hands with him.

"Deal. I'll do it tomorrow night."

* * *

As planned, Chas didn't return home until 3:30am. His mother was sitting in the recliner in her housecoat, dozing until the door shut. She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and looked at the clock.

"Chas Benjamin Kramer, it's 3:30 in the morning," she scolded, standing up. Chas shrugged, dropping his jacket on the couch.

"Whatever."

"No, not whatever. It's a school night, young man, and I told you that your curfew on school nights was ten," she continued, crossing her arms. As Chas walked by her, she wrinkled her nose. "You smell like smoke."

Chas shrugged yet again. "So I hang out with people who smoke, so sue me."

"I told you I didn't want you hanging out with those boys. They're a bad influence."

"You know, you tell me a lot of things, and somehow you expect me to listen. If you hadn't already noticed, I never do," Chas said, a singsong, mocking tone to his voice. Audrey sighed heavily, looking down at the floor for a few moments before speaking.

"Chas…your grades have been falling, you've been _smoking-_"

"I don't s-"

"Don't lie to me, young man, I found the cigarettes in your sock drawer."

Chas froze, his gaze hardening. "You searched my room? You searched my fuckin' room? What are you, a damn _cop_ now!"

"I won't have you using that language in my hou-"

"No, fuck you! I'll talk however I wanna talk! And hell, if I wanna fuckin' smoke, I'm gonna do it! You don't fuckin' run my life!" Chas screamed, and his mother bit down on her clenched fist, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Chas, I just want the best for you…"

"Then stay out of my fuckin' life, bitch!" Chas snapped, stalking to his room and slamming the door. He reached under is mattress, pulling out his extra carton of cigarettes and lighting one up, taking a drag off it with shaking hands. He couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt when he heard his mother sobbing in the hallway, heard her slowly slide down the wall to the floor.

"Fuckin' bitch. She deserved every word," he muttered, wondering where else she searched in his room.

_You just made your mother cry, Chas. What would dad say?_

_It doesn't matter. Dad isn't even here to say anything, and it's her fuckin' fault._

He took his time, savoring the cigarette down to the filter before snuffing it out on the hardwood floor. He sniffled hard to hold back his own tears as he lay back on the bed, looking up at the familiar cracks in the ceiling, cracks that vaguely made the shape of a sailing ship.

His dad had pointed that out, a long time ago.

* * *

It wasn't three hours into the school day, and Chas was already sitting in the principal's office.

"Chas…this is the third time this month that we've caught you smoking in the bathroom," the pudgy man said, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"What can I say? I've been stressed lately," Chas muttered, looking out the window.

"I understand your recent loss," the principal said. "And that's the only reason that you haven't been expelled, young man. I know that it's hard for you, I know it's only been eight months, but this…all these behavioral issues are absolutely inexcusable."

Chas remained silent, his gaze locked on the cars driving by. Principal Faile stared at him for a few moments, and then sighed and stood up, walking around the desk to lean back against the front of the desk right in front of Chas.

"Mr. Kramer, let me make myself perfectly clear. You are falling apart. Last semester you were a straight A student, now you're struggling for D's. You took up smoking. You're careless in your work and your labs. You have no concern for the feelings of others. And on top of all that, you show no signs of wanting to better yourself."

Faile stopped to wait for a reaction. He received none.

"Your mother came to see me this morning. She was inconsolable. She said you screamed obscenities at her relentlessly last night," he said, and Chas snorted, but said nothing.

Faile waited once again. When he once again was ignored, he pursed his lips angrily.

"Fine. Fine. If you want to make me do this the hard way, I will, since I have the permission of your mother," he said, walking back around his desk. This got Chas's attention; slowly he looked back at Faile, his glare suspicious.

Faile continued talking, not noticing the glare. "Your mother was adamant that we find any alternative but suspension should you cause more trouble. So…I'm putting you in in-school suspension for the rest of the semester, with constant supervision. You won't so much as blink without an aide's eye watching your every movement," he said, and Chas's jaw dropped.

"You can't do that!"

Faile looked up, his eyes showing unbending will. "Oh yes I can. And I am. Starting now, your ass is mine, Mr. Hot Shot."

* * *

Of course, none of the day's events kept Chas from trying to fulfill his end of the bet. If anything, it made him even more determined.

He stayed out once again that night, sitting on a bench across the street from the bowling alley, cans of red and black spray paint and a disposable camera in his bag. He pulled up his hood, and simply waited- and the wait paid off. About eleven o'clock, the man in the suit left the apartment.

Chas waited until the man turned the corner, and then he headed for the alley beside the building. He jumped up and grabbed onto the fire escape, swinging his legs up and scrambling up onto the platform. He took the stairs up to the window, using his elbow to shatter it, sticking his hand through, unlocking the window and pushing it open.

He was shocked when he crawled inside. The place was insanely creepy, with a cage around the bed and huge jugs of water around all the outside walls. He stood shock still for a few moment, but then remembered his mission and walked into the kitchen.

He tried to ignore all the weird stuff in the room and instead set his bag down on the table, pulling out the red spray paint first, popping off the lid and shaking the can. He cringed because the sound was so loud, worried about getting caught even though he knew the owner of the apartment was long gone.

And so he set to work with the red paint. He went around the entirety of the kitchen and the bedroom, spraying various curse words and obscene sayings on the walls, including many that referenced to pedophiles and such. He couldn't help but feel like he was being watched- the whole apartment was just insanely scary, and the drip of water in the sink scared him every time it made that metallic 'ploop' sound.

After he'd thoroughly exhausted ideas with the red paint, he went back to the kitchen and grabbed the black paint. He used that to spray pentagrams and gang symbols on the walls.

He knew he should've walked out then. He'd done a helluva lot of damage, but somehow, it wasn't enough. He grabbed the red spray paint again and decorated the floors and ceiling as well, and then followed suit with the black spray paint, until practically every surface in the apartment was covered.

When he got done, he packed up his stuff and picked up his bag- and then he spotted something on the counter. He put his bag back down and headed over to it, picking up the box and studying it.

"No way," he whispered, realizing what they were. It was a box of extremely expensive cigarettes, obviously imported…too good to pass up. He turned around to put them in his bag…

And ran right into a dark figure.

"Oh shit!" He yelped, making a beeline for the window, but the man grabbed him by the wrist and easily pulled him back.

Of course, it was Mr. Suit and Trenchcoat, back long before Chas had expected. Chas swallowed hard, his eyes wide as the man kept an iron grip on his wrist.

"Having fun?" the man asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Man, don't call the cops," Chas pleaded shamelessly. "I don't wanna get arrested."

The man cocked his head, the dim light from the street making him look absolutely like Satan.

"No. No cops. I have a much better idea, kid, and it'll be worse than the cops for your scrawny little ass."

"Dude, don't rape me either!"

The man snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, kid," he said, grabbing the phone with his free hand. "Your home phone number. Now. Or I _will_ call the fuckin' cops."

"You can't be serious."

"You wanna take that bet?"

Chas gave him the number.


	2. Chapter 2

"Chas…Oh, God, Chas…"

Chas was sitting at the man's kitchen table, his gaze glued on the tabletop as his mother surveyed the damage in the room. She walked around the kitchen and the bedroom, her hand over her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears. The man – who Chas now knew as John Constantine – was leaning back against the counter, calmly sipping a glass of vodka.

"Chas…why? Why?" Audrey asked, walking back over to the table. Chas remained silent, and simply offered a shrug. She sighed, and then looked up at John.

"I'll pay for what it costs to fix this. Just send me the bill and I'll cover it," she said, but John was already shaking his head.

"No. I don't want any money from you."

"What then? Sir, I have to pay you back somehow."

"Not you. Him," John said, gesturing towards Chas with his glass. "I want him to clean all this up."

"Oh, come on, man, just take the money," Chas snapped, and Audrey sent him a glare.

"I think that's perfect, Mr. Constantine. Starting tomorrow right after he gets off school," she said, nodding. "Come on, Chas. We're going home."

Chas knew better than to argue. He stood up and followed his mother out, ashamed and angry.

The ride home was silent and tense. Chas expected to get yelled at, but instead his mother remained mute until they pulled up in the driveway.

"You're lucky he didn't call the cops. You're lucky he's such an understanding man and didn't shoot you or something,"

"He's a freak, Mom," Chas said, getting out of the car.

"Where'd you come up with that notion? Those friends of yours?"

Chas rolled his eyes. They went inside, and Chas started to head for his room, but Audrey gently grabbed his shoulder.

"Chas…sit down a second."

Chas hesitated, considering insubordination, but he was too tired and frustrated to fight. He dropped down on the couch, and his mother sat beside him, taking a deep breath.

"New rules for the house."

"Oh, not again…"

"I'm serious this time, dead serious," Audrey said, nodding. "You'll go to school, go to Mr. Constantine's house and do whatever he asks of you, and then you'll come right back here. Those are the only three places you're permitted to be. No television, no phone, only homework and books."

Chas gaped at her in disbelief. "That's unfair!"

"After what you did, Chas, nothing should seem unfair. By all rights you should be spending the night in prison for what you did."

"He lives in downtown LA, it's not like he doesn't have the money to fix it!"

Audrey seemed appalled. "That doesn't give you the right to run around vandalizing property! And you _will _be the one fixing it, young man, don't get me wrong."

Chas crossed his arms and looked away, intent on ignoring her. She stared at him for a few moments, and then stood up and started to walk away. At the doorway, however, she turned around.

"By the way…I installed a smoke detector in your room and in the hallway."

* * *

Chas had never been through anything more boring in his life than in school suspension.

The day started with the aide handing him an assignment. When he got done with that one, the aide handed him another. Then another. Then another.

By the time lunch came around, he was ready for a break to chat with his friends. But when he stood up, the aide shook her head. Chas sat back down, confused…and watched in horror as the aide walked to a small refrigerator in the corner and pulled out a lunch tray. She dropped it on the desk in front of him, and he swallowed hard.

_Exiled. You've been exiled from the school in general. They're going to make you sit in this room till the corny 'effort' poster on the wall drives you insane._

So Chas made plans. Maybe, just maybe he could escape after school, go out to the back alleys with the guys or something.

Of course, that plan was foiled too. After school his mother's car was parked right outside the front door, and she smiled and waved. Chas fumed, hesitated, and then got in the car.

"Smile, honey, you look like you're going to a funeral," Audrey said, patting Chas on the knee before taking off. Chas sighed again, looking out the window at the buildings.

"I bought you everything you'll need to get that stuff off the walls," his mother was saying. "You just have to read the directions on the bottles. At least try to be civil, this man did you a huge favor by not filing a police report."

_Yeah, I know. You've told me a million times._

She pulled up in front of the bowling alley, and Chas sighed, looking up at the dingy apartment. This had to be the worst day of his life.

His mother reached into the backseat and pulled a bucket up front, dropping it in Chas's lap. Inside were bottles, scrub brushes, and rags.

"Have fun, darling. Who knows, maybe he has a daughter or son you can hang out with. Imagine that, a friend who doesn't have to get high to be interesting."

Chas almost laughed. "Thanks, Mom," he said sarcastically, grabbing the bucket and getting out of the car. She sat and waited as he trudged his way inside and up the stairs, and as he knocked on the door he heard her pull away.

For a few moments he thought he might get lucky- no sounds from inside, no nothing. But then he heard a few curses, and then the sound of inside locks being undone.

The door opened a crack, and then John let it fall open the rest of the way. The man looked unkempt, his white shirt wrinkled, his tie loose, and his hair sticking up in every direction. He grunted and walked away from the door, and Chas hesitated before stepping inside and closing the door.

"Good afternoon to you too," Chas muttered, setting the bucket down on the table. During the day the apartment wasn't half as creepy, but still just as weird.

He shifted his weight uncomfortably as John poured himself a glass of whiskey, waiting to be told what to do. John ignored him for a few moments, and then raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you waiting for, kid? Get to work," he snapped, and Chas's fists tightened.

"I was just going to ask where you wanted me to start."

"Like I care. You'll be cleanin' it all eventually anyway."

Chas sent John a glare, and then set to work filling the bucket with water and mixing in the proper chemicals. John was busy flipping through his mail, not even looking up at Chas. He seemed to be used to having juvenile delinquents in his house.

Chas pulled out a cigarette and a lighter, and he was about to light up when John reached over and took the cigarette from his lips.

"What the hell?" Chas snapped, glaring at him.

"You're too young for that. Not to mention those cigarettes smell like _shit_," John said quietly, going back to his mail. Chas flipped him off and muttered a few curses under his breath. John only laughed in response.

Chas set to work on the floor first. He was down on his hands and knees, scrubbing, making a mental note to himself to bring kneepads tomorrow. A few times he could've sworn he saw John watching him, but he dismissed it as his overactive imagination.

That was the way it was, for almost two hours. Complete silence, John walking around the house working on various things and Chas silently scrubbing away. The spray paint was harder than he'd hoped to remove.

There was a knock on the door, and John finished off his glass of whiskey before getting up to go open it.

"Beeman. You're late," he said, stepping aside and letting a short man with thick black glasses step inside.

"Yes, well, I had some trouble getting the…John…why is there a kid scrubbing your floor? And what happened to your apartment?"

John chuckled. "Genius over there broke in and decided to promote his art career on my walls. He just wasn't fast enough."

"Oh, fuck you," Chas snapped, and John dismissed him with a half-wave.

"Ignore him, Beeman. He's all talk anyway."

"More like all _withdrawal_," Chas muttered, continuing to work as Beeman shot him a sympathetic look. The man walked to the table and set a bag down on it, pulling out a box of the imported cigarettes and handing them to Constantine. That certainly didn't help; Chas's hands had already begun to shake from the lack of nicotine.

"I've been working on finding that relic for you, John, but all the records of it disappear in the late years of the Black Plague," Beeman said, and Chas slowed in his scrubbing motions, listening with interest.

"The thing couldn't have just disappeared, Beeman. Saint Dorothy of Montau made reference to it in 1401, said it was in British hands. The British don't throw any of that stuff away."

Chas shook his head. "That's impossible."

Both Beeman and John gave Chas an incredulous look as he interrupted. Chas shrugged, and then quietly said, "Saint Dorothy died in 1394. The document you have must be fraud."

John blinked a few times, and Beeman frowned, walking over to John's bookcase. He pulled out a book and flipped through it, stopping and tapping the book with his index finger. "The boy's right, John. Saint Dorothy, deceased January 25th of 1394."

John stared at Chas for a few moments, seeming torn. Then, he walked over to a file cabinet and pulled out a file, handing it to Beeman.

"There's the document. Run it through your system, find out who really did write the damn thing."

Beeman nodded, taking the document and smiling at Chas before gathering his things and leaving. Chas felt a swelling of pride, felt like he'd done his part to help…help what, he didn't know, but that was beside the point.

"You're welcome," he said to John as the man walked by him. John snorted.

"Lucky guess, kid."

"Lucky guess? Like hell it was!" Chas snapped, glaring up at John. John fell silent once again, ignoring Chas and lighting up a cigarette. Chas sighed heavily, continuing to work.

_I'll prove it wasn't a damn lucky guess._

_

* * *

_

At about 6, Chas's mother brought him some dinner, insisting that John not have to feed her kid while he was working. She dropped off a sack of Chinese, thanked John once again, and left just as quick.

"Does she always spoil you like this?" John asked dryly. He was wearing only a housecoat now, having just gotten out of the shower.

"M'not spoiled," Chas muttered through a mouthful of Chinese.

"Sure, kid," John said with a smirk. Chas glared.

"Don't call me 'kid'."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen," Chas said proudly.

"Then you're a kid. Stop whining."

"I'm not whining!"

"Then what are you doing right now?"

Chas scowled. "Fuck you. I just need a cigarette."

"I don't think your mom wants you smoking."

"Who fuckin' cares?"

John sighed, shaking his head. "Someday you're gonna get the shit beaten out of you for that attitude, and I'm gonna laugh my ass off."

"You wish."

John laughed, and then walked toward the bedroom, grabbing his tie off the door handle. "I have to go run a few errands. Stay outta my shit while I'm gone," he said, closing the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Chas's mother was shocked.

When Chas got home that night, as opposed to setting off the smoke alarm or throwing another teenage fit, he headed straight to his closet and pulled out a box of books. She watched in shock as he dropped the box on his bed and sifted through it, pulling out a few books and settling down to read them.

"What are you doin', darling?" She asked, leaning on the doorframe. She studied the cover of the book from afar; to her surprise, it appeared to be a Catholic guide to the rites of exorcism.

Chas didn't look up from his book. "Readin'."

For a moment, Audrey could slip back in time. She could imagine that it was seven months ago, before the incident, before their family had shattered. It hadn't been since then that she'd found her son so engrossed in a book, not a phone or cigarette in sight.

She smiled, and headed for the kitchen. She would make grilled cheese tonight, one of Chas's favorites. Then maybe, just maybe, she could see that childish grin once again.

She would need to make him happy, because what she was going to tell him tonight would likely make things worse than ever.

* * *

Things certainly didn't all become well all at once. It still took Audrey fifteen minutes to convince Chas to leave his room and eat with her. They sat down in the living room, with Wheel of Fortune on low volume; Audrey never missed Wednesday night Wheel of Fortune.

"Chas…we need to talk about something," Audrey said, and Chas immediately recognized her tone. It was that 'I know you're going to hate this but I'm going to tell you anyway' tone.

"Yeah…?"

"You know Nicholas, right?"

Chas nodded. "That geeky computer nerd that you work with."

Audrey cleared her throat. "You know I've been dating him the past couple weeks…"

"Yeah, I prefer to forget that part."

Audrey hesitated, setting her plate aside. "Well…I've been discussing some of these things that have been happening with him, and he and I have come up with something that might help."

Chas looked downright suspicious now. "We don't need help. Especially not from a guy with a Mickey Mouse screensaver and a coin collection."

"Just hear me out, Chas," Audrey said, leaning forward. "He thinks that what you need is a male role model. A person to be there for you when I can't. To do guy things, and such…"

Chas already didn't like where this was going. He set his plate aside, not wanting to have ammunition to throw at her head, should this go where he thought it might.

"He just wants the best for you, Chas. His apartment just raised the rent, he was going to have trouble paying it, and it just so happens we have an extra bedroom…"

Chas's face had already paled by about ten shades. "No. No, Mom, no. You can't do this."

"I just offered him a place to stay till he finds a new apartment. It'll be good for both-"

"_No!_" Chas shrieked, standing up. "You're trying to replace him _already_, aren't you! It's not like losing a _dog_, Mom, you can't just pick a new one off the street!"

Audrey was already crying now. "That's not what I was trying to-"

"Like hell you weren't! I'll bet you never loved him anyway, that's why you dragged him out that night!"

"You know I didn't mean for any of that to happen!"

"If you hadn't have been all fucking _needy, _he wouldn't have had to go with you in the first place! I _hate _you!" Chas yelled through tears, and then he stormed back to his room, slamming the door hard behind him. He dropped down on his bed, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

* * *

"Hey, Kramer!"

Chas recognized Brian's voice immediately, and for once he didn't even try to pretend he was happy to hear it. He kept walking; he wasn't in the mood for dealing with these guys right now. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with anyone right now.

"Heard you got caught," Brian said, catching up with him, Tony on his heels. Chas sighed.

"Yeah. We heard he's makin' you scrub the walls," Tony said, grinning maniacally. "Find the kiddie porn yet?"

Chas snorted. "Believe me, Tony, you'll be the first to know when I find it."

"How's come he didn't murder you or somethin'? Did he just rape you instead?" Brian asked, and Chas rolled his eyes.

"Don't put your sick fantasies on him," he taunted, and Tony cracked up.

"So how's in-school?"

"Simply titillating, Tony…"

Tony looked at Brian. "Hehehe…dude, he said titillating."

Chas felt like beating his head on a desk, and for once he was ecstatic to get to the assigned classroom for in-school. The guys who he'd been working so hard to impress suddenly seemed so…juvenile.

He waved the guys off and walked inside the classroom, for once not giving the aide an evil glare. He was too tired, and his mind wasn't quite in 'school' mode; he was still reeling from the news that his mother had given him the night before. He propped his chin on his hand and closed his eyes, going over the dozens of questions that had formed in his mind since last night, both questions that he wished he'd asked his mother and questions that he wanted to ask John that evening.

* * *

"How come you don't need a sanction from the Archdiocese to do your exorcisms?"

John looked up from the papers on his table as Chas spoke, and he took a long drag off his cigarette.

"I'm freelance."

"But I read that exorcisms that aren't sanctioned tend not to work as well."

John chuckled. "You read too much, kid, if you're judging the quality of my work by a Catholic guide. What are you doin' reading that shit, anyway? You're an irresponsible teenager, not a monk."

"It's interesting," Chas insisted, his scrubbing now distracted and gentler. The work actually seemed to be a good thing now, distracting him from thoughts that only spiraled him into depression. "How come you aren't sanctioned as a priest and you can run around doing exorcisms anyway?"

"I'm just that special, kid."

"I've told you a dozen times, don't call me kid. I'm not a kid. I'm seventeen."

"You're a kid."

Chas sighed and returned to scrubbing, occasionally sneaking glances up at John. For some reason the man was mesmerizing, the way he smoked, the way he talked, the way he drank…

_Whoa, Chas, you're gettin' kinda creepy here._

_But still, I'd rather him move in than Nicholas the super-nerd._

The phone rang, and John picked it up, having a short conversation and then hanging up. He stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"I'm goin' to run a few errands. Stay-"

"Out of your shit, I know," Chas finished for him, and John chuckled and was out the door.

Yesterday Chas had been well behaved when John told him to stay out of his shit, mainly because he was afraid the guy would materialize out of nowhere and catch him again. But now that he'd been doing some reading, and spent some time with John, the man didn't seem so intimidating anymore. Well, still intimidating, but not shoot-you-in-the-head-on-sight kind of intimidating.

So did Chas stay out of his shit this time?

Damn right he didn't.

He waited a few minutes and then got up from the floor, drying off his hands and giving his knees a break. He went to the bedroom, where a large cabinet stood to one side. He tried the handle, but of course, it was locked.

That hadn't stopped him before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bobby pin, maneuvering it in the lock till he slipped all the pins inside open, and he pulled the doors to the cabinet open.

His eyes widened and he smiled as he looked at the contents. Old crosses, dozens of guns, hundreds of ampules of holy water, and…a book?

It was an old book with a plain brown tattered cover, and he reached in and tugged it out, sitting down on the edge of John's bed before opening it up. The pages looked like parchment, and everything inside the book was written in calligraphy style handwriting.

His brow furrowed- he didn't understand a word of it. The language it was written in was one he'd never seen before; in fact, it appeared to be two languages alternating.

He took the book over to his backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper and a mechanical pencil. He laid the sheet of paper over a page in the book, and then uncapped the mechanical pencil and took out a stick of graphite lead.

He pressed the paper down and set the graphite on it lengthwise, then proceeded to rub it onto the paper, leaving an impression of the words on the original paper. Once he finished the rubbing he folded it and stuck it in his backpack.

He suddenly got an overwhelming feeling of dread. It was a feeling so intense that it was almost entirely unfamiliar to him…he felt like he was being watched. He looked over his shoulder…nothing.

He tried to shake it off, picking up the book and taking it back to the cabinet. He'd use the impression he made to look it up later, figure it out when he had more time. He closed and locked the cabinet, and then got back to scrubbing.

It was almost two hours before John got back, and that whole time Chas couldn't shake that horrible feeling, that mental pressure. And when John got back, Chas knew he wasn't alone in the feeling.

John took one step in the door, stopped cold, dropped his bag, and looked at Chas hard.

"What did you do?"

Chas's eyebrows both rose up. "I didn't do anything."

"Bullshit," John growled, walking over and grabbing onto Chas's collar, literally lifting him off the floor and dropping him on the table. "What did you do? Don't you fuckin' lie to me, kid."

"I might have looked around a little…"

"Shit. Shit!" John snapped, walking over to his bag and grabbing stuff out of it. He dropped the stuff on the table, then opened an ampule of holy water and made the sign of the cross on Chas's forehead, beginning to mutter in Latin- and if Chas wasn't mistaken, there was some worry in the man's facial expression, along with the obvious anger and frustration.

"Um…John? What are you doing?" Chas asked, but he was only shushed. John grabbed a cross and shoved it into Chas's hands.

"Hold that, and don't fuckin' let go," he ordered.

"What's going on?"

"Don't ask, you don't want to know," John said, and then he took a smaller cross and pressed it against Chas's forehead.

Chas had never been in such horrible pain in his life. It was like John had started a drill through his skull, and he let out a shriek, trying to pull away. John grabbed onto the back of his head, holding tight, the cross burning into his forehead.

Chas kicked, fought, screamed, but nothing seemed to work. Soon all he could feel was John's touch, all he could hear was John's voice, then…darkness.

* * *

Chas woke up with a splitting headache.

He groaned and forced his eyes open, surprised to find no light coming through the windows- only darkness. It was night already. Not only that, but Chas was laying on John's bed.

"Mornin', sunshine," John said sarcastically as he entered the room. "I told your mother you got sick and passed out and that I'd call when you were feeling up to going home."

Chas blinked a few times, pushing himself up to a sitting position. "What happened?"

John sat on the edge of the bed, handing Chas a glass of water and two aspirin. "You opened the damn book, didn't you? You kids and your curiosity…it'll get you killed, you know."

Chas took the pills, chugged some water, and handed the glass back to John. "John…what _happened_?"

John smirked. "When you opened that book you opened a portal to Hell in the apartment. A portal through _you_. If I hadn't shown up, you would've gone into full-out possession in a few hours. Energy just needed time to build."

Chas blinked a few times again, this time in surprise and disbelief. John chuckled and pushed the dazed boy back down on the bed.

"Get some sleep. You've gotta be pretty damn tired after having portals to Hell opened and closed in you."

John was right. By the time he finished that sentence, Chas was already asleep again.


	4. Chapter 4

"No meat for the next week, and no graveyards. Both of those can attract a demon back to you before the book's effects wear off," John was saying as Chas gathered his things. "I put some holy water in your bag. You should drink a shot of it in the morning and in the evening, just in case."

"Yeah, yeah," Chas said, not really listening. He closed his bag and walked to the door, wincing as another short pain hit him.

"Remember to take plenty of aspirin and get lots of sleep," John said to him as he began to walk out. At the door John grabbed his arm, and Chas gave him a 'look'.

"What?"

"The most important thing, Chas," John said very sternly. "Do not lose your temper. Your anger will only give a demon fuel to take control."

Chas pretended to take him seriously, and he nodded solemnly. As he turned to walk out the door, however, he was barely holding back laughter at that lunatic's antics.

Audrey was waiting on him outside, and she asked about three dozen times if he was okay before beginning the short drive back to their apartment. Chas immediately noticed that the parking spot his father's truck used to occupy- before they sold it- now had a Ford Taurus in it.

"Mom…whose car is that?" he asked, already knowing the answer but not wanting to believe it. Audrey sighed, turning the car off but not getting out.

"I know you didn't like the idea, Chas, but it was either this or he would have to go live with his mother. You complain about that enough to empathize with him, right?"

Chas snorted, glaring at the small green car. "Hardly. I'm surprised he doesn't drive around one of those Geek Squad cars."

"You'll at least _try_ to be civil with him, won't you?"

"No."

"Chas…"

"No. No, I won't. I'm gonna be fuckin'-"

"Your language. We discussed that, young man."

Chas sneered at her and got out of the car, slinging his backpack over his shoulder as he headed inside and up the stairs. Audrey caught up with him just in time to fumble nervously with her keys, unlock, and open the door, and Chas as immediately greeted with the sight of Nicholas setting up a computer on his dad's old desk that he'd used for model ship building.

That sight alone was enough to make his blood boil.

"Heya, Chas!" Nicholas said in that strange, nasal voice, swiveling in his chair. Chas flipped him off and continued on to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Everything was being changed, all at once. Chas remembered the time just four months ago that he set a Pepsi can down on that same model table and his mother had yelled at him for hours over it. Now she was letting Mr. Nerd Extraordinaire virtually take it over- literally.

Chas engrossed himself in books and a couple cigarettes- he'd figured out before he left the day before how to disable the smoke detector in his room- but it wasn't all that long before there was a soft knock on the door and Nicholas stuck his head in.

"Hey there, buddy…can I come in?"

Chas shrugged, leaning back against the headboard and taking another drag off his cigarette. "You've been setting up your scrawny ass everywhere else, why not here too?" he said, his tone bitter. Nicholas fidgeted nervously for a few moments, then pulled out Chas's desk chair and set it beside the bed, sitting down.

Chas gave him an absolutely venomous look. "I wasn't serious. Can't your logic apply to _sarcasm_, or do I need to talk in netspeak to get it through your skull?"

Nicholas smiled, as if Chas had been joking. "Audrey told me you have a pretty morbid sense of humor."

"Go stick a sewer rat up your ass, bitch."

It wasn't working. It was as if Nicholas had an impenetrable dork shield that prevented him from getting offended. He just smiled that dorky smile, pushed his glasses up, and continued as if Chas hadn't spoken.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come take a look at the computer. I set it up for you, to do all your homework on, play some games, surf the web…"

"So I can become just like you? How fuckin' touching."

"It still has some bugs to work out, but when you feel up to it, I'll show you how it all works. Get you a livejournal, an e-mail account, it's great fun," Nicholas said, standing up.

"Go fuck yourself," Chas said with a glare, blowing smoke in Nicholas's face. Nicholas started coughing and retreated to the hallway, and moments later Chas heard the sound of an inhaler being used.

Chas thought that maybe, just maybe he'd get the evening to himself. A break from school, a break from John, a break from everything…but no. Of course not. His luck got spent six months ago and now he had none left.

His mother stepped in the room just as he was putting his cigarette out on the bedside table, and he could see the disappointment and anger in her eyes.

"Put on some shoes and eat a breath mint," she said. "Nicholas's parents own an Italian restaurant downtown, they want us to come eat dinner with them."

"I'm not eating dinner with some nerdy pricks," Chas mumbled, but Audrey simply replied by picking up his shoes and throwing them at him.

"You're coming, young man," she said, stepping out of the room. Chas let out a string of curse words and yanked on his shoes, foregoing the breath mint- he was sure as hell going to be smoking another cigarette on the way there, so why bother?

He did just that. He smoked a cigarette in the car on the way there, the window down, trying to ignore the two adults in the front seat even thought they kept trying to drag him into the conversation.

When they arrived at the restaurant Chas sighed and tossed his cigarette to the ground, stamping it out. The place was basically one of those mom and pop operations, a little Italian pasta joint tucked away in a strip of cheap tourist shops. He could've gotten better Italian at Pizza Hut.

Nicholas's parents were waiting on them in the lobby, and they introduced themselves quiet politely before leading them back to a table in the back. It wasn't five seconds before their drink orders had been taken, the waitresses obviously trying to impress their bosses.

"So Audrey, honey, what is it that you do?" Nicholas's mother, Tanya, asked.

"I do graphics design for an advertising company," Audrey explained, and Chas snorted, but held back his usual commentary on how his mom made a living adding pretty colors to pictures. She used to do original art all the time, but not anymore- and after seeing what she was capable of, Chas had no respect for the mutant form of art editing she made her money at.

"That's interesting," Nicholas's father, Stanley, added. He smiled, and his gaze locked on Chas. Despite Chas's silent pleas to be left out of the conversation, the adults were determined to make his evening social and miserable.

"Quite a handsome young fellow. Are you still in high school?"

"He's a senior," Audrey said, not wanting her son's foul mouth to scare the nice old people.

"It's almost time for college, then. Best years of your life, don't waste it," Stanley said as the waitress set the chicken parmesan salads in front of them. Tanya took a bite, then turned to Chas.

"What do you plan on studying? Do you have a career in mind?"

_No_. "I want to be a freelance exorcist," Chas said boldly before Audrey could cut him off. Stanley almost choked on the piece of chicken in his mouth, Audrey gave Chas that 'look', Nicholas ate his salad with blind ignorance, and Tanya's eyes got just about as big as the salad plates.

"Oh really?" she asked, obviously horrified.

"He's still considering his options," Audrey said, trying to salvage the conversation. "He's quite fanciful."

There was an awkward pause, and then Nicholas broke the silence. "Audrey, you look simply gorgeous tonight," he said, and his parents nodded in agreement. Chas's hand tightened on his fork, and he stabbed hard at a piece of chicken, screeching the fork against the plate.

"You should see her apartment," Nicholas continued to his parents. "Beautiful Spanish styling, muted colors, amazing."

Chas imagined the next piece of chicken he stabbed was Nicholas's hand.

"Oh, it's really not that big of a deal. Just the artist in me coming out."

"It was mostly dad's design," Chas butted in, making sure that fact was well established. His sudden whore of a mother wouldn't be taking any credit for something that his dad had done.

"Chas is right, it was. Especially the nautical aspects," Audrey pointed out, and Nicholas grinned.

"The mural on the living room wall is a nice romantic touch."

Chas could feel his hands shaking now. He wanted nothing more than to stab his fork through Nicholas's eye right about now.

"Well, Audrey, don't you worry about keeping him for long. We're helping him find an apartment ASAP," Stanley said, and Audrey chuckled.

"It's fine. We have plenty of room in that apartment."

Nicholas's geeky grin grew. "Who knows? It might even become a permanent arrangement."

Last straw.

Before Chas knew what he was doing he'd literally leapt over the table, his hands were wrapped around Nicholas's throat, and he'd dragged the man to the floor and was punching and screaming uncontrollably.

"You fucking _bastard_! I'll fuckin' tear your throat out, you fuckin' cunt!" Chas screamed, punching Nicholas in the jaw over and over. He felt hands on him, heard the general panic, but he couldn't stop. He just couldn't. He was seeing red from the very suggestion that this might be a _permanent_ arrangement.

A replacement.

"You're not gonna fuckin' stay! I swear, I'll rip your balls off and shove 'em down your throat, you god damn bitch!" Chas shrieked as people pulled him back and off Nicholas. Nicholas rolled onto his side, groaning and shaking, his hands covering his face.

Chas couldn't control it. He couldn't calm down.

Moments later, something struck him hard in the back of the head, and everything went black.

* * *

When Chas woke up, he was laying in a hospital room.

It took him a few minutes to fully wake up, but then he got up and tried the door, finding it locked.

_A locked hospital door? Jesus Christ, Chas, what did you do?_

He tried to brush that thought aside, walking over to the window and opening up the curtain to look out over the city. It was night now, the neon lights of the buildings making obscure patterns on the ground and the skyline.

_He deserved it. He fuckin' deserved every hit he took._

He sighed, rubbing his temples gently. Whatever he'd been hit with, it had been damn effective; he had the headache to end all headaches.

He heard a key turning in the lock, and he glanced over his shoulder. He was shocked when it wasn't his mother or even a nurse walking in- a nurse was instead letting John Constantine in.

Chas couldn't help that odd feeling, that feeling of butterflies in his stomach when John entered the room. It was that same feeling he got when he had a silly middle school crush, a nervous, hopeful feeling.

It was just weird that he was having it in response to a middle-age exorcist. On top of that, a _guy_.

Chas shook off the uncomfortable thoughts and turned back to the window, and John stopped a few feet behind him.

"Your mother called me."

Chas didn't answer him, and didn't move.

"She said you did a nose dive over chicken salad and beat the shit out of a guy."

Once again, Chas didn't answer. That would be explanation enough that he was guilty. He heard John shift his weight, and then he heard him sigh.

"She's scared of you, Chas. Nicholas isn't pressing charges, but…she asked me to take you for a few days. Till things can calm down and counseling can be arranged."

Chas snorted. "Abandoning me. Right."

"Hey, don't shoot the messenger," John said. "I already picked up your stuff. You can stay here for the night, if you want…all I've got at my place is an air mattress for you."

Chas sighed. "I hate doctors."

John shrugged. "I'll call a cab and talk to the nurses. Hang out here for fifteen minutes or so, okay?"

Chas didn't answer him. John left the room, and Chas clenched his jaw, leaning on one hand against the window.

He'd been replaced. He loses his temper once, it wasn't even unjustified, and she replaces him with her nerd of a boyfriend. She was _scared_ of him.

"Daddy…" Chas whispered against the window, and then he slowly sank down to the floor, collapsing into tears.


	5. Chapter 5

Chas hadn't moved from John's kitchen table all day.

John left mid-morning, waking Chas up in the process, and when John got back in the afternoon Chas was still sitting at the table doing nothing. The boy had only gotten up for twenty or so minutes of scrubbing, but when he found that he'd been scrubbing the exact same spot for the whole twenty minutes, he figured it wasn't worth the effort.

"Chas…you've got to do something," John said, lighting up a cigarette. Chas didn't answer, so John offered him a cigarette…and got no reaction. That was when he knew something was _really_ wrong.

"Come on…eat, throw things, yell, do _something_. You're making me nervous."

Chas sighed.

"That doesn't count," John said, annoyed, moving the Chinese he'd brought home from the counter to the table I front of Chas, hoping that the smell would elicit some kind of reaction from the teenager.

"Come on. I went to all this effort to deal with those confusing Chinese people, I won't have you blowing off the effort," he said, nudging the bag of Chinese food closer.

"M'not hungry," Chas mumbled.

"You haven't eaten since yesterday evening."

"M'still not hungry."

John sighed heavily. "Listen, I told your mom I'd feed you and make sure you didn't kill anybody. So I'd have a lot of explaining to do if I had to drag your starved carcass back to her doorstep."

Chas shrugged. "She doesn't want me anyway."

"Is that what this is about?" John asked with a groan, sitting down at the table and beginning to serve out the Chinese food anyway. "Look, Chas, your mom doesn't hate you. It's just…you're a high maintenance kid, okay? She needed a break."

"She needed time alone with her new fuck toy, the stupid whore."

"You shouldn't talk about your mother that way. Bad karma."

"Fuck karma."

John shook his head and dropped a plate of Chinese food under Chas's nose, and then started eating some himself. "You need to just calm down, relax, and stop being so damn spastic and paranoid."

"Oh, and you're so much more stable?"

"Hell yes, I'm stable. Not sane, but perfectly stable."

Chas half-smiled, poking at the rice on his plate. "You're weird."

"So I've been told."

Chas and John's gazes met, and for a moment they just stared. Something changed then, something small…but it was interrupted by a knock on the door.

John got up to answer it as Chas finally began to eat, and in the hallway stood a middle-aged woman in a nice outfit, with thick black-rimmed glasses and a briefcase.

"Mr. Constantine?" She asked, and John quirked an eyebrow and nodded. The woman hesitated, and then continued. "A Ms. Kramer sent me here. I'm a psychiatrist, she wanted me to speak with her son."

John almost laughed, but then opened the door the rest of the way and gestured to the boy at the table, who'd overheard everything.

"I don't need a shrink," Chas muttered, stuffing another forkful of Chinese into his mouth. The woman stepped in and sat down across from him.

"I'm just here to talk with you a bit, Chas," she said. "My name is Dr. Matthews."

John shifted his weight uncomfortably, and then grabbed his jacket.

"I'm gonna go down to the diner and let you kids have your fun," he said, walking out the door and closing it behind him.

Chas watched the psychiatrist with a suspicious glare as she pulled out a notebook and a pencil.

"How are you feeling today, Chas?" she asked.

"How do you fuckin' think I'm feeling?"

"I don't know. You tell me."

Chas growled. "This is _shit_."

"Why is this shit?"

"Why do you have to keep asking stupid questions?"

The psychiatrist wrote down a few things on her paper as Chas simmered. Then, she looked up and said, "Why did you attack Nicholas at the restaurant?"

"Because he was being an asshole, that's why."

"By flirting with your mother?"

"It's only been six fucking months!" Chas yelled, standing up. "Six months, a-and she's bringing that _asswipe_ into our house? Tell me I don't have a right to be pissed, I fuckin' dare you!"

"You do have a right to be angry, Chas, I'm not saying that you don't. But maybe physical violence isn't the best way to go about this."

Chas snorted, walking to the window. A few moments of silence, then Dr. Matthews spoke again.

"Do you feel threatened by Nicholas?"

Chas actually laughed at that one. "Didn't you hear, lady? I beat the shit out of him. I'm not scared of that scrawny freak."

"I didn't mean physically. I meant…do you feel threatened that your mother might be taking a liking to him?"

Chas's fists tightened. "It's been…_six_…_months_."

"Some people have different stages of grieving, Chas. It doesn't mean she didn't love your father if she's already ready to start the healing process."

Chas remained silent. He didn't agree, but there was no point in arguing about it. He heard Dr. Matthews scratching a pencil across the paper once again.

"Did you talk to her?" Chas finally asked.

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"When is she going to let me come home?"

A pause. "Chas…your mother was scared half to death by what she saw and heard from you in the restaurant that night. Until I make a diagnosis and have some suggestions for treatment, she'd really like for you to stay here."

Chas felt anger and the feeling of betrayal welling up in him again. "That bastard is still staying at our house, isn't he."

"You put him in the hospital. He has a concussion and a broken nose."

"Good."

"Hurting Nicholas isn't going to solve anything. This whole problem is between you and your mother."

"Yeah, and I guess she likes him better anyway."

Dr. Matthews wrote down stuff for another minute or so, and then she stood up.

"I'll tell you what, Chas…I'm going to come back here tomorrow, and I'll bring some prescription medication with me that should help stabilize you. We'll talk some more, I'll chat with your mother, and we'll see what happens, alright?"

Chas didn't answer, didn't even look at her. Even when he heard the door shut, he didn't look away from the window.

Medication. That was it.

"If she fuckin' doesn't need me, then what the hell," he muttered, turning and walking into John's bathroom. He opened a cabinet, searching around until he found what he was looking for.

An old prescription of Vicoden pain pills, written out to John Constantine. The bottle was half empty, but there was still a good amount of pills in there. He emptied them onto his hand, staring hard at them.

_She doesn't need you. She has Nicholas. Nobody needs you anymore_.

He took the pills dry, leaving a horrible taste in his mouth. He leaned down and used his hands to cup some water from the running faucet and drank it, but it barely helped.

He gripped the sink with both hands, looking up into the mirror. He didn't look any different, but his eyes looked simply dead. And he knew it.

A few moments, and his hands were suddenly trembling on the sink. A few more, and there was a growing pain in his abdomen.

He tried to remember how many pills he'd taken, couldn't do it. He couldn't concentrate at all.

_Maybe this wasn't such a good idea._

The thought came a little late. By the time he decided he wanted to get to the phone, the room was swimming around him and the pain was blindingly intense. He stumbled to the door of the bathroom, ran into the doorframe, then used it to stay on his feet as he moved into the kitchen.

He heard the door open and shut, and he looked up to see two Johns…no, three Johns. The multiple Johns rushed to him, and he suddenly felt hands holding up his violently shaking body.

"Shit, kid, what did you do?"

The voice was a bit distant, but understandable. "V-Vicoden."

"Oh, no. You didn't. Fucking hell," John said, and Chas utterly collapsed against him. John grabbed for the phone with his free hand, quickly dialing 911.

Chas could barely hear John talking on the phone. All he knew was that John sounded a bit panicked, and that he was slowly being lowered to the floor.

"Hang in there, Chas," he heard John say, and he felt a hand in his hair, gentle. He tried to answer, couldn't form words.

"Chas, answer me. The ambulance is coming, but you've gotta talk to me."

Those were the last words Chas heard before all his senses failed him.

* * *

The next few days were a myriad of nothingness for Chas. Mostly dreams, bad, painful dreams. Once in a while he would hear quiet voices, or a soft, mechanical beeping. Those times, when he could hear those things, he could feel the heaviness and numbness of his body, the sensation of something in his mouth and throat, a tube.

He heard John's voice more often than anyone else's, even his mother.

It wasn't for three days until he finally came to. He could suddenly feel his fingers and toes again, some of the heavy feeling gone.

He forced his eyes open slightly, blinking a few times to get them to focus. He was in a dimly lit hospital room, and John was sitting in a chair by his bed, flipping through a book.

John glanced up and noticed Chas was awake, and he set the book aside and leaned forward.

"About time you came to," he said, and Chas tried to speak, but it hurt too bad to try.

"Your mother was here a few minutes ago. She'll be back later tonight," John said. "You just don't try and move or talk, okay? Relax."

Chas didn't have to be told twice. It seemed to be exhausting to even be awake. He closed his eyes, and the last thought he had before falling into sleep again was that his mother was probably out on a date with Nicholas.

He had nightmares again.


	6. Chapter 6

When Chas woke up again, his mother was sitting in the chair beside his bed, biting her fingernail nervously.

He shifted and groaned, quickly realizing that the tubes and wires had been diminished to one IV in his arm and nothing more, other than the obligatory heart monitor. Audrey caught sight of the movement, and she leaned forward and hugged him tightly.

"Chas, my baby, I thought you'd never wake up," she said with a sigh of relief, holding him close, her hand in his hair. He stiffened and waited until she pulled away to speak.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, his voice slightly slurred.

"A few days," Audrey said. "Not as long as the doctor thought. You're very lucky Mr. Constantine found you when he did."

Chas nodded, slowly trying to push himself up to a sitting position. Audrey fumbled for the bed remote and pushed it into his hands, and he used it to lift the head of the bed till he was mostly sitting up.

Chas looked around the room, half expecting John to walk in. "Where is John, anyway?"

"He went to eat some dinner, I think," Audrey said, grabbing onto Chas's hand. Chas pulled away.

"Why'd you do it, Chas?" she asked quietly. "I thought we were going to work things out."

Chas shrugged.

"You have to talk to me, darling. We can't fix things if you don't talk to me."

"You obviously don't want to talk, if you're sending a shrink to me."

Audrey sighed. "Is that what this is about, Chas? The psychologist? She's the best around here. I just wanted the best for you."

"That loon doesn't know what the hell she's doing."

"She seems very intelligent and logical to me."

"She's an egotistical bitch who thinks she can fix me. I don't need that, Mom."

Audrey paused again, unsure of what she could say. Chas was the first one to speak again.

"Is he still there?"

"Who?"

Chas rolled his eyes. "Santa Clause, Mom."

"Oh, Nicholas?" Audrey hesitated, and then nodded. "Yes, darling. He's still there. But I would really like for you to come home now, honey."

"No."

"I know you don't like him, but he's really not-"

"I said no. I'm not coming home till he's _gone_."

"He's not mad at you or anything."

"I don't care if he's mad. He deserved that punch. I don't like him."

"Why not, Chas?" Audrey asked, her voice rising in pitch. "He's been trying so hard to be nice to you all along."

"He's a fuckin' nerd."

"I know that's not the reason."

"You _know_ what the damn reason is, Mom!" Chas snapped, and Audrey looked down at the floor. Chas paused, his head already pounding with pain.

"Come home, Chas," Audrey finally said. "You can't stay with Mr. Constantine forever. You've already overstayed your welcome and cause him so much trouble."

"He's an exorcist. I doubt I'm as bad as what he deals with in his job."

Audrey lifted her nose a bit. "With the way you've been acting, I highly doubt that."

Chas sneered at her, his fists tightening. "I'm not coming home till he's gone. I don't care if I have to live in a gutter."

Audrey set her jaw, her eyes shining with new tears. She slowly stood up.

"I'm going to go get my dinner," she choked out, walking out the door and letting it drop heavily behind her. Chas was about to relax when the door opened again. At first he thought it might be his mother changing her mind and returning, but soon the tall, dark frame of John Constantine became apparent in the doorway.

Chas looked away as he walked to the bedside, but John immediately caught his attention by setting two cups on the bedside table and pushing one toward Chas.

"Hot chocolate. Don't tell the nurses, they already caught me trying to sneak a brownie in here for you," he said with that characteristic half-smirk.

"Thanks," Chas said, grabbing at the cup and taking a sip of the warm liquid. He was absolutely famished, but hot chocolate would work. "How come you're still here, anyway?"

John shrugged, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of what smelled like very strong coffee. "Your mom was having a rough time about it. I decided it was due time I took a vacation anyway. Possessed people won't go anywhere, just gotta look at the ceiling."

Chas laughed, wrapping his hands around his cup to savor the warmth. "You've got to take me sometime. I wanna see this stuff you're always talkin' about."

"I doubt your mother would like to have you coming home smelling like puke and demon goo."

Chas shrugged and yawned. "Who cares? I'm not goin' home anyway."

"Why not?"

"She's still got _him_ there."

John nodded, pausing for a few moments. "So I'm guessing I should leave the air mattress set out for a while yet."

"You don't have to," Chas pointed out, feeling sleep tugging at him. "I can find somewhere else to go, easy."

"All your shit is at my house, kid. May as well just stay put so your mother knows you're safe."

"You wouldn't mind?" Chas asked sleepily, setting the hot chocolate aside.

"Nah. Besides, you still have that one wall to clean. You haven't finished your damn job yet, you slow little bastard."

John looked at Chas, Chas returned the gaze. Both smiled.

"M'gonna sleep, then…when can I leave?"

John sighed, looked at his watch. "Don't know. I'll check with the doctors while you get in a nap. I'll see which buttons I can push, maybe get you out of here tonight. I know how bad the food here can be."

Chas nodded, leaning back against the pillow, his eyelids heavy. "Sounds good…"

"Get some sleep, kid," John said, standing up and ruffling Chas's hair. Chas smirked, almost laughed, and within a few minutes he was asleep again, feeling much more at ease after speaking with John.

If only he could feel the same ease with his mother around.

**2 Days Later**

As planned, Chas was back at work cleaning the last of the spray paint as soon as he was strong enough to do so.

It was during one of those periods of working, when John was busy with other things at the table, when another knock on the door came. John got up and cracked open the door, and his expression immediately turned to a glare.

"Aw, hell, no. You think I'm letting _you_ in here?" he said, and Chas glanced up to see Dr. Matthews standing at the door.

"I'm not here to have an intensive session, Mr. Constantine. I'm just here to chat."

"Well, how fucking kind of you. Hope you can talk loud, cause you'll be chatting through a closed door."

"Please," Dr. Matthews said, putting a hand on the door before John could close it. "Just let me speak to him. You don't have to leave, and I won't take long."

John hesitated, staring Matthews down for a few moments before glancing over his shoulder at Chas. "You okay with this?"

Chas shrugged. "Sure, whatever."

John opened the door the rest of the way, allowing Dr. Matthews to come inside. He slammed the door behind her, and she jumped.

"If Chas tells you to leave and one more word leaves your lips, I'll throw you down those stairs myself," John growled at her, stalking back over to the table to continue working. Chas didn't stop scrubbing at the wall, even as Dr. Matthews approached.

"Nicholas is going to be moving out next week," she said warily, and Chas snorted.

"Good for him. Goin' to live with mommy and daddy, I'll bet."

Dr. Matthews ignored the snide comment. "Your mother wants you to come home."

"Obviously not enough to come ask me herself."

"Your mother is distraught, Chas. She doesn't think you trust her anymore."

"Oh, gee, whatever gave her an idea like that?" Chas asked melodramatically.

"All she's asking is that you-"

John cleared his throat loudly, interrupting Dr. Matthews mid-sentence. She quickly changed her mind about persisting on the topic with Chas.

"Would you like me to bring your mother here? Just to talk?"

Chas shrugged, and offered no verbal answer.

"Would that be alright with you, Mr. Constantine?" Dr. Matthews asked, and John gestured to Chas with his glass of whiskey.

"His mother, his decision."

Matthews nodded. "Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes with your mother, and we'll see what we can work out."

With one more glance at John Dr. Matthews left the apartment. Chas and John were silent for a few moments, just concentrating on their individual work.

"I'm curious, Chas," John said, putting his paper down on the table. "Why do you hate this guy so much?"

Chas shrugged yet again. "He's trying to be my dad. And he's _not_."

John paused, took another swig of his drink.

"What happened to your dad?"

The scrubbing on the wall stopped. John looked on with a carefully blank expression.

"Something really bad," John said, an observation as opposed to a question. Chas nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

"It was my fault it happened in the first place," he said quietly, his hand beginning to idly scrub the wall again.

"I highly doubt that," John said with a light, humorless chuckle. He let a short silence set in, and then he put down his drink.

"What happened, Chas?"

Chas looked up at John, then down at the floor, then up at the graffiti on the wall. The room was filled with a tense silence, and then he sighed.

"Six months ago. My mom wanted to go to a ballet in town, but she didn't want to go alone. She hates doing stuff alone. But ballet isn't my thing, you know?" He started, finally dropping the scrub brush into the bucket of water at his feet. "So, since I wasn't about to go, Dad offered to go with her."

The story was becoming obviously more difficult to tell. Chas's throat tightened and his fists clenched and unclenched. "On the way there...a couple guys hijacked the car. They…"

He paused again, swallowing hard, sniffing. "They shot my dad, threw him out of the car, left him to die. Then they made my mom drive into an alley, and they raped and mugged her. And they never even found the fuckers. Still don't know who fuckin' did it."

He didn't dare to look up at John, to see the inevitable disapproval and blame there. He sniffed again, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"I should've been the one that went, you know?" He said, his voice shaking. "I should've gone with her. I knew my dad hated that ballet shit as much as I did, but I was too worried about getting a stupid paper done."

As he spoke, Chas hardly noticed as John pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. He strode over to Chas with determined, long strides, and then yanked the teenager into a tight hug.

Chas wasn't expecting it, and stiffened at first. But after a few moments, the unexpected act of kindness took its toll on the shreds of emotional control the boy had been holding onto strictly for dignity. He let out a sob, falling into the embrace.

"It was my fault, I shoulda been the one with her," he sobbed into John's shoulder as the man rubbed his back.

"Ssh…it wasn't your fault, Chas. Nobody knew that was going to happen, you're no exception."

"But it should've been _me_," Chas insisted, and John lifted the boy's chin, looking him right in the eye.

"Your father wouldn't have wanted it to be you," he said, his voice stern. "You can't feel guilty for this. None of it is your fault."

Chas stared up at John, his eyes searching for any sign of deceit, and finding nothing. Just…John. He felt that strange nervous feeling come back, almost overpowering since his senses were weakened with sorrow, and he started to lean forward…

And there was a knock at the door. He jumped and gasped in surprise, and John yelled at whoever it was to hold on a minute.

He simply held Chas, stroking the boy's hair till he'd calmed down and gained control of his emotions. After a few minutes, he looked down at Chas and gently pushed him away.

"You ready to deal with the shrink and your mother? I can tell them to scram, if you want more time."

Chas shook his head. "No. I wanna get this overwith."

John nodded, and hesitated again, as if he wanted to say something more. He brushed it off, however, and headed for the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The yelling lasted for what seemed like hours.

The shrink stayed only for the first fifteen minutes, and then she got a 'crisis call' from another patient and had to leave. In about five minutes, Chas and his mother were in a full out fight in John's bedroom.

He sipped whiskey and listened carefully, able to catch snippets of blame being thrown around, some harsh language on Chas's part, and at one point the sharp sound of someone being slapped. Chas, evidently, judging by the context that followed.

After another fifteen minutes or so of this, Chas's mother opened the door and came storming out. Chas followed halfway.

"I hate you! I hate you, you fucking whore!"

Chas's mother turned around, wildly gesturing as she spoke. "You find somewhere else to live, you little brat! I don't want you in my house!"

Audrey stalked to the door, threw it open, and slammed it behind her as she left. John took another swig from his glass of whiskey and then set it on the counter before looking up at Chas.

Surprisingly, Chas didn't look angry. In fact, he didn't look much of anything. He looked like he'd been punched in the gut.

John stepped over to him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright?"

Chas numbly nodded. John paused.

"Are you sure?"

Chas shook his head.

John hesitated, unsure of what to do. He'd never seen Chas quite like this before.

Then, he got an idea.

"Alright, I won't have you fuckin' standing there doing nothing," he muttered, walking over to the bookshelf and pulling a folder off it. He lifted Chas's hands and pressed the folder into them.

Chas blinked a few times, looking from the folder back up to John.

"Well, you took a few years of Latin in high school, right?" John asked, and Chas nodded. "I need those documents translated, kid, and I don't have the time or the patience to do it. I have lots of odd jobs like that. Not only that, but I don't have a license."

Chas paused. "What are you saying?"

John smirked. "I'm not going to let you stay here without pulling your weight. I'll find you a car, you be my apprentice and my driver, and you can stay free of charge."

Chas's expression brightened. "Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking? Get on those translations!"

** Later That Night **

John knocked on the door to Audrey's apartment, and it was a few moments before a raw voice called out, "Who is it?"

"It's John Constantine…I'm here to pick up Chas's things."

A pause, then the locks on the door snapped open and Audrey opened the door. John walked in, three collapsed cardboard boxes under his arm.

"Where's his room?"

Audrey pointed, looking pretty dazed, wearing only a housecoat. "Second room on the left, down that hall."

John walked down there and pushed the door open to Chas's room. He expected a messy cluttered place of rock band posters and dirty clothes- but instead, the room was practically spotless.

He collected the stuff that seemed important- he put the clothes in one box, the books and cd's in another, and in the third box he put anything else he thought Chas might need. It came down to having just enough space in the box for one more thing, and he looked around the room, trying to decide what looked important.

His eyes locked on a ship model on the dresser, one of those ships in a bottle. He stepped closer and studied it closer. The base had Chas and his dad's name signed on it, and a date that was close to a year ago.

Carefully, he picked up the model and set it in the box. He set the boxes by the door, taking a short break before he carried them out to the waiting taxi.

When he came back for the last box, Audrey was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. But as John picked up the box, Nicholas came out of the bedroom in only boxers.

_Yell at your son, go have sex with your boyfriend,_ John thought, simply shaking his head and walking out the door.

When Chas unpacked his stuff later that night, he was fine through the first two boxes. But when he opened the third box and saw the ship model in it, he stopped in his tracks.

Moments later he'd leapt to his feet and was hugging John tightly, muttering thank you after thank you for bringing it. John hugged him back, ruffling Chas's hair.

Chas leaned back, and their eyes met.

It wasn't ten seconds before Chas closed the distance with a bold kiss, one that John eagerly returned.

** 2 Years Later **

Chas pulled over next to a party that was just getting over at a convention center, and he only had to wait a few seconds before a couple got in the back of his taxi. He started the meter.

"Where to?"

The woman told him to take them to a downtown nightclub- and Chas immediately recognized the voice.

It was Audrey.

Sure enough, he looked in the mirror, and there was his mother being all lovey-dovey with Nicholas. Neither had recognized him, since it was night and he was wearing a hat.

"You look like a hip couple," Chas said, an idea forming in his brain. "May I suggest somewhere younger, more in tune with your tastes?"

Both Nicholas and Audrey seemed flattered. She asked Nicholas what he thought.

"Sure," Nicholas said, scooting closer to Audrey. "Take us to the hottest place in town."

_He's feeling frisky. That's perfect_, Chas thought, pulling away from the curb. He drove into the heart of downtown, looking for that little club that he knew would be perfect.

He tried not to listen to them talking about Audrey's promotion to vice president of the company, or about the new company Nicholas wanted to start, but it was hard to tune out hearing your mother talk as if she never had a child.

He pulled up next to a small club on a back street, stopping the meter and gesturing.

"This is where anyone who's anyone goes for a hot time," he fibbed, and Audrey giggled, tossing a twenty in the front seat.

"Thanks," she said, dragging Nicholas out of the cab and into the club. Chas waited a few moments, then got out of the cab and walked up to the bouncer of the known demon-hangout.

"Make sure their evening is less than pleasurable," he said, pressing the twenty into the bouncer's hand. The bouncer smirked, pocketed the twenty, and headed inside.

As Chas headed back to the cab, he smiled.

Revenge may be a sin, but that doesn't make it any less sweet.


End file.
